


never your sweetheart

by literally_jams



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Lowercase, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Graduation, Sawamura Daichi Centric, Separations, Unhappy Ending, in bwtn timeskip, inspired by mitski & coldplay we all know how this is going to go, right person wrong time..., wondering what i can say to get me featured on the hq ao3 tag twitter acc...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:08:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29166216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literally_jams/pseuds/literally_jams
Summary: haikyuu writer jukebox | round 1: mitski | goodbye, my danish sweetheartin laying down a foundation, some things get inherently covered up, dirt pressed underneath stone. if suga’s decision to leave is one of them, then that’s that. they don’t have to talk about it. when something big looms in the distance, it is easy for daichi to redirect his attention to something else and pretend it is not coming towards him. but eventually, it taps his shoulder.or: daichi spent three years with sugawara at his side and his fresh absence leaves daichi looking for him in places he used to belong to, like by daichi's side.
Relationships: Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 31
Kudos: 23
Collections: Haikyuu Writer Jukebox Round One - Mitski





	never your sweetheart

**Author's Note:**

> heads up there is a mention of metaphorical blood and also a metaphorical gun
> 
> big thank you to shan, kaya, & evi for betaing as well as tuki for shaking me by the shoulders every time i overthought the writing process n being my biggest supporter ! Love u all

sawamura daichi spends his third year of high school with karasuno on his tail and sugawara by his side. in april, he wears a jersey with a white number one printed on both sides and he is pleasantly surprised when it fits like new shoes for the beginning of a school year and the shape of the word _captain_ in his mouth feels like red wine; sharp, but it coats his tongue in velvet. 

his vice captain stands at his right hand and on his left resides his.... tanaka. they watched the king of the court play last month against yukigaoka’s fiery captain and by some shake of luck or misfortune, they’re now watching the two of them squabble in karasuno’s gym. suga elbows him and raises an eyebrow. _aren’t they something special?_

daichi huffs out a breath. _you’re telling me!_

suga shakes his head. _they wouldn’t even listen to you._

 _rowdy,_ daichi nods, nose twitching.

“it’s really weird when you guys do that,” tanaka interjects. “can you teach it to me?”

they both turn to him. “do what?” suga asks.

tanaka gestures between them. “the telepathy,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. daichi thinks his inner monologue goes something along the lines of _“suga-san and daichi-san can read each other’s minds. i wonder if me and noya could do that!”_ oh, to be young again.

suga laughs lightly like he’s on a cloud. “that ruins the magic,” he continues pointedly, “of nonverbal communication.”

daichi nods, “you have to find it yourself for it to work properly.” 

tanaka, clearly unsatisfied with their answers, directs his attention towards kageyama and hinata. 

daichi turns to suga, who’s already looking back at him. his lips quirk up in a smile, and suga reflects it right back.

two fingers tap at the corner of daichi’s desk, making him look up from the math worksheet he’s scribbling on. 

“you look like you’re having a good time,” suga says sarcastically. he glances down at daichi with a smile, the sleeves of his white button down rolled up from the august heat.

daichi sighs, releasing the death grip he has on his hair. “math,” he explains.

suga huffs lightly. “you wanna get dinner tonight?”

“you’re paying.” he starts twirling his pencil, giving up any intention of working.

suga is taken aback, hand on his chest. _“why.”_ always so dramatic.

he replies easily, “you asked.”

suga sighs in defeat. “fine.” he walks past daichi to the back of the room to sharpen his pencil, but not without flicking the side of daichi’s head as he passes.

after practice, the two of them walk with asahi until they stop at the streetlight at which they usually part. suga stays by daichi’s side when asahi breaks off from them, prompting him to raise an eyebrow. 

“we’re getting katsu,” suga explains easily.

daichi turns to look at him. “you just said dinner.”

“so what do you call katsu? a snack?” he retorts.

asahi pipes in, “this is daichi, remember.” 

daichi whips around with a glare and a point. “and that’s why you weren’t invited.”

he’d expected asahi to be at least a little bit shocked, but instead he replies pointedly, “sure. _that’s_ why.” 

cheeky bastard. who taught him that?

suga intervenes in a continuation of role reversal. “did you want to come?” 

asahi shakes his head. “me and nishinoya are going out later.”

“you’re _going out?”_ daichi emphasizes, realigning the rightness in the world again because asahi is shocked, face rapidly turning red.

“not like that!” he says.

“then like what?” suga joins in with a shit-eating grin.

“like friends! like normal friends.” asahi takes a step back. “i have to go. have fun on your date!” he starts walking away. 

_date?_

“we will!” suga waves him off. “have fun on your not-date!”

asahi pretends not to hear suga, and daichi forgets about the date comment.

once they take a bus that takes them downtown, suga starts pointing them in the direction of the katsu place he picked out.

“what if i didn’t want katsu?” daichi pokes at him.

suga stops walking. “don’t be difficult, you can’t eat ramen every day.”

daichi shakes his head and his stomach takes it as a perfect cue to rumble. “well,” daichi tries talking over it, “i don’t mind it.”

nothing gets past suga, who starts laughing. “difficult,” he says with no bite. 

they’re seated across each other in the restaurant booth once they arrive, menus lying flat on the table. 

“only for the brave of heart, super spicy tonkatsu curry,” daichi reads aloud, finger tracing the words on the plastic menu.

suga looks at him determinedly, wicked grin spreading over his face. “that’s what i’m going to get.”

“you think you could handle it?” daichi asks, just to get a rise out of him.

he (unsurprisingly) doesn’t back down. “i’ll finish it.”

once they place their orders, daichi and suga pass the time by discussing how practice went, suga writing down drill ideas on his phone. 

when the food arrives, daichi watches suga take his first few bites, digging into his own bowl of katsudon. suga keeps his expression neutral, eating the angry red dish like he’s eating an apple.

“you wanna try?” suga meets his gaze, challenging him.

daichi eyes his empty glass of ice water and accepts anyway, wordlessly trading suga a piece of his katsu, followed by some onions. suga covers his strip in more curry, dropping it down onto daichi’s plate. 

he takes a hesitant bite, only to swallow it down and look at suga as if he poisoned him. “that was fine,” he comments. then- _shit!_ the after burn starts to set in and daichi feels like he has a kilogram’s worth of sand lodged in his throat. suga pats his shoulder sympathetically across the table when he starts coughing.

“there, there, dai.” he hands daichi his own glass of water, daichi taking it down in two swallows. “not all of us can have as strong of a digestive system as i do.”

“you mean-” daichi chokes out, clearing his throat. “not everyone- _ahem,_ has their taste buds singed off like yours?”

“jealousy is flattery, or whatever they say.” suga eats more of his curry from hell.

later, when they’re walking the streets, asahi’s comment pops back into daichi’s head.

besides the fact that they split the bill, the outing does feel like a... but he and suga do stuff like that all the time! and it’s never been a _date._ if he was with some other boy, then maybe. but this isn’t just some other boy, it’s _suga._ besides, if this was a date, then daichi would have to text him that night after walking him home and fit dates in between practices, and he’s not really sure he can give a boy that time of day and be someone he wants him to be when he’s trying to go to nationals. so it’s good that this is suga, because daichi doesn’t have to pretend around him. suga makes him feel safe, shares the same goals, is coming to nationals with him. it’s good that their friendship is strong like this. he can’t quite shake off the weird feeling that something is wrong, but things are only as big of a problem as daichi makes it out to be, so he contains that thought in a box, not letting it stray. 

the sun set a while ago, but the headlights from passing cars and konbini lights illuminate the roadside where they stroll. 

suga, never one to make things easy, gets a little too close to the road, kicking a hefty rock with the inside of his shoe. a car swerves around him, making daichi tug the wrist of his jacket to pull him away from the car. he pushes suga with one hand, his shoulder first, then the middle of his back so daichi’s closest to the traffic. “suga,” he says exasperatedly as they keep walking.

“daichi.” his tone is light, but daichi can see a red tint cross his face. _pretty,_ his mind supplies, before his eyes flit up to a red neon sign they just passed by. _SAITO ELECTRONICS_ taunts him. suga wasn’t blushing. 

his fingers are still splayed out across suga’s back. he makes no effort to move them. “you’re going to get yourself killed,” he deadpans.

“not when i have you here,” suga teases again. 

something tugs at daichi’s heart but he forgets about it quickly when suga points out a fancy backpack through the window of a discount store.

in december, daichi tells suga that he’s going to sendai city college. 

“you don’t want to go any farther?” suga furrows his brow. leave it to him to get straight to the point. _you need to know that you are not bound to our hometown. you can run farther._

daichi shrugs one shoulder. “not really. it’s far enough that i don’t have to live at home. but, you know.” he breaks suga’s gaze. “my siblings, and mom, and…” he gestures vaguely. _i know i can. but i have an obligation to stay._

suga’s face turns from questioning to soft, almost pity. daichi hates it. he does not need pity. he does not need help. this is his choice. the neon and white noise of the city attracts him like shiny objects would a crow, but he is a defender before he is a bird, a foundation before he is anything more. 

“where are you going?” daichi asks. as soon as the words leave his mouth, he is hit with something akin to panic. _where are you going?_ he had asked because he doesn't know. because suga might not follow. the defensiveness in his chest is bartered for something he can’t name. weakness, maybe. _come with me,_ he thinks. _come with me._

“i don’t know,” he says casually. “sendai city is on my list.” now he is the one looking away. “tokyo, too. osaka.” 

daichi hears tokyo and osaka, looming threats of a future without his number two by his side. but he hears sendai city, and that is enough. he doesn’t need a miracle to happen.

good thing he didn’t. because in january, suga makes his choice. and spoiler alert: it isn’t ~~daichi~~ sendai city college. realistically, he knows that suga choosing sendai was never an option. he is not the person he was at the beginning of their third year, taking blame for things he wasn’t responsible for or marking himself as a “wishy-washy, namby-pamby, fidgety-flighty, indecisive wreck.” suga has sharper teeth now, wings itching to fly after a year of sitting in the nest. daichi knows someone like that is better suited for the speed tokyo resides in, with its bullet trains and bustling people. daichi knows. but still, he had the audacity to hope that suga would come along and they’d tackle it the way they tackle anything: together. 

“i’m going to tokyo,” suga had said gently. and then he braced for impact.

to be fair, so did daichi. but nothing came out of him other than a hollowness in his chest. _one and two. i lead and you follow._ nothing is as simple as counting numbers anymore.

suga raises an eyebrow. _are you going to ask me to stay?_

daichi swallows. _i couldn’t do that to you._

“they’d be lucky to have you,” he says instead. and he means it.

in laying down a foundation, some things get inherently covered up, dirt pressed underneath stone. if suga’s decision to leave is one of them, then that’s that. they don’t have to talk about it. when something big looms in the distance, it is easy for daichi to redirect his attention to something else and pretend it is not coming towards him. but eventually, it taps his shoulder.

sawamura daichi leaves karasuno with all the grace the earth has. the steps he takes from his seat to the stage where he takes his diploma are calculated, weighted. as backwards as it is for the lead crow to leave first, he is ready to take the next challenge ahead, knowing the nest he built is sturdy and will hold strong against time. when he leaves the karasuno gym for the last time, when he sees his kouhai for the last time, his goodbye smile isn’t sad nor is it a goodbye. _see you later,_ he waves. _i can’t wait to see what you do next._ daichi has a lot of regret in his life, a lot of disappointment; but karasuno has never been a part of that. 

the last walk home with suga is different than the elegance with which daichi graduated with. when asahi had left the team, he simply fixed his gaze on the court in front of him and did not allow himself to look back. the issue with looking forward now is that there is nowhere to look beside suga’s pleading face. he knows suga is asking, but for the first time, daichi’s not quite sure what he’s asking for. whatever it is, the answer is no. no, daichi will not follow him. no, daichi will not ask him to stay. suga’s eyes are soft, expecting. daichi’s hands are clenched as to prevent himself from reaching out and touching. his fingernails are digging into his palms so hard he’s sure the imprints will match the shape of the moon to rise. what does daichi do when his number two is leaving? when they are not one complete set any longer?

the crossroads they are at feels like a jump float serve, a little wobble to the left, a little wobble to the right, not knowing which way it’ll go until it hits the ground. daichi usually knows where to step, where to shift his body but in volleyball, there are six of them and karasuno’s guardian deity can pick up his slack. but nishinoya is not here. and daichi is not on the court. he is outside of the sugawara household and it’s the perfect weather, the sun is just setting and there’s a welcome breeze. daichi does not know if the gods are cruel or merciful for letting his last look of sugawara be framed against such beautiful scenery, cannot tell if this was a sign for him to stay and preserve the perfect day or to take a mental picture to forever keep in his wallet.

“i’m glad i got to be your friend,” suga says, all too quietly for a boy who yells at his team from the box in front of television cameras.

“we’ll still be friends,” daichi replies. he’s glad to know that the air of finality between them is reciprocated- one last time they are able to be synchronized like this.

“yeah,” suga nods. “but it won’t be the same.” he smiles but it’s not vibrant or happy or anything daichi has come to associate with suga’s smile.

he feels his heart pull, his teeth clench. “you’ll always be my friend.” 

“good luck out there, dai.” suga says in the same soft tone, as if afraid to disturb the air between them.

best friends do not feel their hearts get stuck in their throats when they hear a nickname. best friends do not feel as though the world is ending when one is moving 370 kilometers away. but maybe daichi is especially emotional. “you too, suga,” he says thickly.

he spares one last glance at suga and the glassy look in his eyes is almost enough to make daichi ask him if he could come to tokyo, if they can prolong the end for just a little bit more. but he doesn’t. instead, he turns around to face the sunset, shoving his hands in his pockets and starts to walk the path towards his house. daichi does not look back. 

sendai city college is a fresh patch of land, green hakone grass swaying easily in the wind. it’s a perfect site to build a foundation, so daichi strikes his shovel into the dirt and starts to dig. in his first three months of college, he joins the volleyball club, makes friends, and attends every class. but every construction project has its issues: daichi develops a caffeine problem, he struggles to keep up, and then foundation building is canceled altogether when the boys’ volleyball team wants daichi more on the offense than at the defense. at practices, his hands are no longer clasped together, knees bent for a dig. instead, his palms are busy glowing red as he slams a ball over the net and it’s true that they twitch for a clap and an instruction for a penalty run, but he doesn’t need to be a defense specialist anymore, so it’s natural that he doesn’t need to be a captain anymore. but he wants. 

then there’s suga. three years of friendship does not end because of one dramatic, straight-out-of-a-movie, break-up-esque sunny afternoon, as much as the both of them acted like it. instead, it dissolves like an abandoned house, moss growing over the windows that once let sunlight in, termites chipping away at furniture until what was once a home is now just a shitty wooden box.

their texts are separated by distance and time, and every “i was at a party,” and “met up with my group for literature,” daichi feels the string tying them together fray until there are just a few strands that hold them together when just that winter, it was a metal chain. but metal chains inhibit flying, so maybe this is for the best, and daichi is not someone who does things halfway. he twists the string around his index fingers, creates tension, and pulls to hear it snap. he stops replying. he doesn’t think suga notices and a part of him loves it; if the dying was inevitable, then he needed it to be on his terms, needed the blood on his hands and the bullet shot by his revolver. 

but no matter what he does, suga is still his number two, even if the decimals in between them feel farther than they ever have before. nowadays, though, his eyes catch the number fifteen jersey draped across the back of his chair and he finds himself thinking, _i’m not anyone’s number one anymore._

forget suga. he left him in miyagi, daichi can leave him on read. he can fill the space beside him that suga left empty. if a pillar needs supports to hold it up, then it just needs to be made out of a stronger material. daichi needs to fortify. 

but not a lot is working out in his favor, and his new construction project is no different. he crumbles like old concrete- or maybe feta cheese is a better description, when on some wednesday evening, he’s paralyzed in the middle of the drink aisle in the grocery store. he’s gripping the handlebar of his cart too tightly as if it’s going to be taken from him, as if it’s going to leave. his gaze isn’t on anything suga-specific, not his favorite fruit (strawberries) or his favorite accessory (blue scarf) or anything like that, it’s a pocari sweat. it’s the drink of every athlete in japan but daichi is looking at the plastic bottle with a clenched jaw and stiff legs because he’s remembering suga’s smile and the way his knuckles protruded out when he curled his hands together in the winter. there is no reason for him to feel like this- he’s the one that ended it both times, after all. but what his brain knows and what his heart wants gets lost in translation often these days.

“excuse me,” a stranger says, pulling him out of his pity party. 

“right,” daichi mumbles, scooting himself and his cart to the side. “sorry.”

“thank you!” another voice calls, to which daichi looks up. the strangers are a couple- a boy and a girl around his age. he’s leading her through the aisle, hands clasped together, and her thankful smile at daichi is so sweet and genuine. daichi manages to smile back and he’s hit with a vision of suga holding his hand and letting daichi follow, head tipped back in laughter. 

his chest burns hotter at the thought of following suga, of letting him take control. daichi clears his throat and swallows, tries not to break down in the middle of the store because he’s been in love with suga since he can remember and it’s hitting him 370 kilometers away. 

he falls back on a classic tactic from high school, convince himself things are factual. _i’m going to nationals. we’re going to win them all. i’m in love with suga._

he almost can’t believe it took him this long to figure it out, that his irrationality in the spring was not envy for suga, that he was able to go to tokyo. it was that tokyo got to have him, and daichi didn’t. 

that night, he lays in bed under blue covers, reaching for his phone and squinting at the light. he opens his messages with suga before coming to a still. what’s he supposed to do, beg for suga to come home? that daichi’s made a mistake and he needs him here because at eighteen, he’s still afraid to be alone? 

he tries typing out a message. _hey._ he erases it. _suga._ too ominous. _i think i_ \- that one is trashed too quickly. daichi closes the app and goes to his camera roll to see suga’s face. a team photo, all of them dogpiled on each other with daichi at the top, hand on suga’s back and the other on tanaka’s shoulder. a selfie asahi took of them outside of sakanoshita. he’s grinning at the camera and in the back, daichi and suga are wearing twin smiles and peace signs. as he swipes through the photos, he’s realizing that he’s always paired with suga. of course, he had known this. captain and vice, one and two, but it’s different when they’re wearing matching expressions in almost all of the pictures. on top of the countless times they had spoken at the same time to tease asahi. and if daichi did these things, being in love with suga the whole time, then maybe-

suga loved him too.

he didn’t… he never… how was daichi _supposed to know?_

one of his favorite things about suga is the way he knows how their teammates are feeling with one phrase. it’s his job, as a setter, as the control tower. sure, daichi could do that too, to a lesser degree, _but on the court!_ take a fish out of water and… sure, it could psychoanalyze the other fish, but getting back in the water would probably be its first priority! 

he tries again. _i’m going to nationals. we’re going to win them all. i’m in love with suga._

_i still have a chance with him. we can be who we were._

there is a difference between deserved confidence and straight up lying- they went to nationals because they practiced and listened to coach ukai talk about plays until he was blue in the face. winning was not a distant, faraway goal, it was the top of a mountain they had climbed, the final boss they were always going to reach in the end. rekindling with suga wouldn’t be too difficult, all he needs is a call, a text, an apology. but wouldn’t the guilt eat him alive? 

when karasuno lost to aoba johsai in the interhigh and daichi wanted to retire, suga told him that it was okay to pursue his desires, it was okay to want. he wonders if suga still feels the same, when the thing daichi wants now, more than anything, is suga.

he stares up at the ceiling. as much as they were one and two, left and right, they can’t be that anymore. daichi tells himself again, and again, and again, hoping that one day, it will stick. just because he lost his footing without any responsibility as a captain, it doesn’t mean suga would do the same thing, reaching his hand in the marshmallow fluff past and coming away with persistent strands of childhood fondness when he retracts. suga has a new life, far away from daichi and his baggage. he’s finally taken off and now daichi wants to tie a rock to his ankle? pull him back down and cup him in his hands, so tightly in the name of love he forgets to let suga breathe? if there is one thing daichi will never bring himself to do, it is to hold suga back from the world because of his wants.

daichi has spent his whole life coloring his feelings irrational. this should be no different. 

if he’s lucky, he’ll dream something simple and saccharine, where he says the right thing and suga would stay. 

he doesn’t. 

the last time he sees suga, sendai is cold and he has to squint his eyes when the sun reflects the snow too brightly. he pays no mind to what’s deep in his chest and things are good when he is able to keep his eyes on the court in front of him, be the strong pillar he’s known for being. he spends his time spiking volleyballs until the low electric buzz underneath the palms of his hands that desire another hand to hold are replaced with a raw and red satisfaction.

daichi had known his team had a game against tokyo met, but still, his eyes fall naturally to blue jersey #7 like he’s done a million times in the past, when blue jersey #7 was black jersey #2. suga is three-quarters of the way down the court, arm outstretched with a ball in his hand, ready to serve. the rest of their team is warming up as well, but it doesn’t matter when they’re in the same gym again, but as daichi and suga, and not _daichiandsuga._

suga suddenly turns to look at him and daichi is frozen still, looking directly at him. suga’s mouth is slightly parted open before he swallows, locking his jaw and directing his attention to the ball. right. in the midst of his moping and whining, daichi had forgotten that he was the one to burn the one string that connected them in a burst of needing to reclaim control. if he had never deserved suga then, he definitely does not deserve his forgiveness now.

daichi grits his teeth and turns around, walking towards the locker room. he doesn’t see where suga’s serve lands.

in the last play of the game, tokyo has their ace on the left, another spiker running up on the right, and the third hitter from the back pushing forward after a good dig. daichi jumps for a two man block, not sparing an unnecessary glance at suga’s splayed out fingers, at his starting position. 

tokyo met, daichi’s noticed, plays like a feral animal, constantly on the edge of desperation and thrashing in hopes something will stick. and a lot of things do, they’re scarily connected and their hitters aren’t something to be messed with.

their setter isn’t, either. the spiker on the right jumps as suga does, but at the last second, his right arm comes down, left hand dumps the ball, sending it over to daichi’s side of the court.

suga descends to the ground slowly, a crazed grin on him as he watches the ball hit the floor, three sendai players coming just a few centimeters short. there’s sweat dripping off him, hair ruffled and eyes crinkling at the corners.

as much as he taught kageyama, suga picked up a few things from him, too.

2-0, 25-23. tokyo’s win. 

daichi’s hand meets suga’s underneath the net in a show of good sportsmanship. suga’s grip is firm, his palms soft and knuckles dry. daichi lets go when he does, and tries to catch his gaze with no luck. suga walks off before he can open his mouth to say _i’m sorry_ or _how have you been?_ or anything at all. but this is his millionth missed chance.

his brain said to break the ties between them and his hands followed through. his heart, ever the judas, uses its own sinews in order to reach out, craft any type of bond at the expense of strain. 

_look at me,_ he stares at suga’s back as he walks away. 

a few minutes later, he’s taking a drink out of his water bottle when tokyo met calls him over. 

“number fifteen!” daichi turns around to look at number three, a tall spiker who shut out daichi a few times. number three waves his hand, inviting daichi to join their conversation. crossing the few feet across the gym quickly, he’s met with half their team and suga, who’s focused on the palms of his hands. 

“sugawara told us you used to play together, back in the day.” three says. “sawamura, right?”

daichi nods, looking at suga and the lines of his jaw and shoulder. _you talk about me?_

no response.

“we used to play at karasuno,” he says aloud. “suga was my vice captain.” 

“karasuno? you made it to nationals, right?” someone else pipes in. “my cousin goes to nekoma.”

before daichi can say anything, three pops in again. “not surprised, with the way sawamura spikes?” he turns to grin at him. “i know i blocked a few of those, but i didn’t do it half-assed.” 

daichi’s now smiling, preening that his hours after practice and numb hands aren’t for nothing. “thanks-” 

“daichi was one of our best receivers,” suga interrupts, tone factual but if he was looking from the right angles, daichi would say there was a tinge of pride. or rather, he wants there to be one. “we used to call him our foundation.” he’s smiling but daichi _knows_ this smile, it doesn’t quite reach its full shine and his eyes aren’t smiling with him. it’s the same look he had when he gave his starting spot to kageyama. suga has always been like this, putting up fronts because he didn’t want anyone else to worry. but daichi always worried, so he had told him that suga didn’t need to do that. not with him.

and now here he is, standing in front of a sugawara koushi built wall. 

“you’re not so bad, either, sugawara,” teammate-whose-cousin-goes-to-nekoma says. “remember that miracle dig last week?”

suga barks out a laugh and suddenly, daichi is in high school all over again and that laugh is something he hears every day like the chirp of birds on his walk to school. “yeah,” he nods. “can’t believe rikkyo got one over us. we’re definitely kicking their ass in the interhigh.” 

it hits him now- tokyo _is_ suga’s team and they _are_ his friends and daichi _was_. captain, best friend, anything he meant to suga is in the past tense, buried in his memory and taken out on occasion like a dusty photo album to reminisce on peach tinted days and strawberry seed nights. before the tint clears and the seeds wither. _it’s better this way,_ he convinces himself because the first time he sees a genuine grin from suga since they went separate ways is when he’s looking forward to a future game with his new team and all the looks aimed towards daichi’s orbit were pained. 

taking the momentum of tokyo met getting excited about their next match, daichi excuses himself. “it’s good to see you,” he says before turning around. he’s satisfied at the burn in his chest when suga says nothing, because this is what he deserves, isn't it? what does he expect if not to get burned when he puts his hands too close to suga's flame, even if all he wanted was to be closer? 

he takes one last look at suga before getting on the bus, trying to memorize the way the light frames his face. the farther he goes, the more he forgets.

**Author's Note:**

> hi i hope u enjoyed ! consider checking out my [twitter](https://twitter.com/daichibao) as well as the [fic mix.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6dL1k1fxVCB0nX8mNRcF9S?si=KAlPC8TTRQKNsPVMUp2-5w) have a good day! :]


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